On Silent Wings
by Fyrie
Summary: [Elisabeth musical]: in 1857, the infant Archduchess Sophie of Austria is at death's door, but she is not alone in her final hours.


While the fic is based on the musical, the event was a historical fact which is only mentioned briefly in the show: The death of Archduchess at the age of two years happened when she and her sister were taken to Hungary on an Imperial visit with their parents. Both children took ill. Gisela recovered but Sophie - the firstborn - died. It was seen as one of the major factors of Elisabeth's depression & disintegrating emotional state.  
Aerean is technically an OC, since none of Death's angels have names or even lines in the show, so yep. Gave him a name and a character.

* * *

It was his appointed task.

Silently, Aerean approached the bedside of the child.

Her nurse was close at hand, but both her mother and father were absent. It was not uncommon, he knew, for such was the brief existence of those deemed royal. Their appearance meant more than their own flesh and blood.

He had watched as illness had struck the Imperial children and now, he waited.

Few mortals garnered such fierce scrutiny, and fewer still the presence of Death's own chief angel. No child had ever been thus guarded as the fragile strands of her life unravelled.

Aerean felt no pity for the infant Princess. It was not the nature of Death's angels to care for those whom they watched. A mortal's life was short; they would live and they would die, falling into the very dust they had been born from. That the child's life was shorter than many meant nothing. Life and death were intertwined. Sooner or later, she would have died.

She lay now, scorched with fever. Her face, which had been so plump and merry when Aerean had first been charged with her nightly protection, was now pinched and thin, high spots of vivid colour on otherwise bone-white cheeks.

Beneath the thick covers, her body was wasting, flesh shrinking away, her dark hair matted with perspiration and clinging to her skin. She no longer opened her dark eyes, and Aerean noticed that her breath had a flavour and scent of his home about it.

The time was growing close.

By the bedside, the nurse was lost in prayer, tears on her face. She had watched as fiercely as Aerean had, sleeping little and soothing the child as best mortal hands could. The angel admired such fortitude and unwavering loyalty to her charge. He hoped her death would be a peaceful one, blessed with his Master's good graces.

Her prayers, he knew, were in vain.

Even now, the child's laboured gasps were fading softly, muted and weary. He drew close, unfurling his golden wing and letting the breeze whisper over her flushed skin, sweeping her last breath in a swirl of invisible colour in the air.

About him, the mortal world seemed to fade. Aerean turned, sinking into a respectful bow as his Master emerged from naught, drawing the dark mantle of his dominion over the child's nursery.

Extending a gloved palm towards the child, Aerean's Master closed his eyes. Elegant fingers curled inwards over the palm and the sound of an infant heartbeat faded into silence. Death sighed and opened his eyes.

On silent feet, he approached the shadow of the bed, sinking to sit beside the child's still body. "Sophie," he whispered. His fingertips brushed her brow and large, dark eyes opened. The Master smiled tenderly. "Good evening, little Majesty."

With an infant's awkwardness, Archduchess Sophie sat up and stared at him. "Man!" she said, pointing a small finger at him.

"Sometimes," Aerean's Master said with a becoming smile. He held out his hands, and the infant clapped her palms against his with a merry giggle.

With a gentle touch, he drew the child upright and her stamping feet carried her across the forgotten blankets to him. Without question or doubt, she climbed into his lap and Aerean's Master embraced her, smoothing her tangled hair with a soft touch.

Her dark head resting against his chest, the child tried as best she could to wrap her small arms around his Master. The Master laughed softly, slipping his arm beneath her to raise her up, his expression one that Aerean rarely saw.

"I think your mama is going to miss you, little Majesty," he murmured, rising from the bed.

"Mama?" the little Princess echoed, her small hands on the Master's shoulders. The Master nodded and kissed her on the forehead. "Mama go?"

"Yes, little one," the Master murmured. "But you will stay with me." He smiled at her, tapping her on the end of her nose. She laughed afresh and grabbed at his finger with one small hand. "Won't that be nice?"

Aerean watched as Death wrapped the child in his protection, fading from the room and drawing the stillness and shadows with him. Colour and light returned and he drew his wing softly over the child's forgotten husk of a body, sweeping the last of her brief life out.

Drawing back, unseen, he gazed impassively at the motionless infant.

By the bedside, the loyal, unwavering nurse uttered a keening cry of anguish, and Aerean watched as she wept afresh, touching the shell of one that she had loved. The feathers of his wings brushed her briefly, then he too was gone.


End file.
